


standing in the rain (i’ll never be the same)

by Dino_andTiger_Fest



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, References to Depression, references to kris tao and luhan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:33:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dino_andTiger_Fest/pseuds/Dino_andTiger_Fest
Summary: In the aftermath, Jongdae’s a mess.





	standing in the rain (i’ll never be the same)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt #12 
> 
> Author's note: okay, so I had a super hard time with this prompt (idk why i have experience with this stuff) and I finally finished (late :() and I just hope you guys like this or something :D + super big thanks to the admins who put up with my super late entry <3
> 
> written by LJ user [newlywed-kpop](https://newlywed-kpop.livejournal.com/)

Flashing lights. Pumping bass. Flowing drinks. It’s all the recipe for a great night, as demonstrated by the numerous shit-faced people around him, but Jongdae only feels empty. Instead of the astounding amount of alcohol sloshing around his hollow stomach lifting his mood, it only numbs him, making the music fade to the background and the strobe lights dull. 

Shot after shot. Before long, Jongdae can barely stand, laying heavily over the emptier parts of the bar, only moving knock back another drink. After he’s far past being able to count the number of tiny glass cups he’s empty, the bartender, a handsome young man with a thick Chinese accent, cuts him off, pinning his most frequent customer a pitiful grimace and calls a cab. 

Jongdae drunkenly calls out, “Lu!” when the bartender shouts over the music that his cab has arrived, the accent so similar that his muddled brain can’t differentiate. It’s only when the bartender pulls Jongdae out of the bar, hands rough and calloused over his bare arms, that Jongdae figures out that he isn’t Lu Han, and Lu Han’s never coming back. 

...

When Jongdae next wakes up, his mouth tastes foul, his head feels even fouler, and his heart feels foulest of all. Chanyeol stands over him, an unusual frown pulled over his lips, almost in a pout, and a bowl and glass in his hand. 

“I thought you said you’d take me next time,” Chanyeol whines as soon as he spots Jongdae’s open eyes, “It’s not very safe for you to go out alone and get shit-faced. Anyone could’ve seen you.” 

Jongdae says nothing, just groaning and writhing around on the surface he’s on-- couch?-- before sitting up and accepting the bowl of kalbitang and glass of water that Chanyeol offers him. They sit in a silence for a few moments, Jongdae greedily slurping down the soup, before Chanyeol speaks again, tone a little more serious this time. 

“Dae, I know it’s hard, because of what you and Lu--” 

“Don’t. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m fine,” Jongdae cuts him off harshly. 

“You’re not fine. You can’t be like this-- you’re an idol and we have reputations to uphold, especially after everything that’s happened,” Chanyeol replies, voice hard and reprimanding. 

The older laughs coldly and turns, “Are you Joonmyeon now? Or Minseok? Because you sound just like them. Don’t worry about what I’m doing, Chanyeol, I can take for myself,” Jongdae stands, gaze on the floor, “Forget, I’m going to shower.” 

Under the rapidly cooling spray of the shower, Jongdae feels irrevocably lonely, the singular sound of falling water filling his ears. A few months ago-- hell, a few weeks ago-- there was a little maknae butting his way into Jongdae shower, smiling when Jongdae fussed but moved over, there was a big, clumsy goofball cracking stupid jokes that no knew they missed until they were gone, there was his hyung, unfurling for a moment to let Jongdae creep into his bed when his thoughts were too much and he couldn’t sleep. 

Now, it was all gone, Jongdae only left with empty spaces that none of the other members could fill. 

Long after the water runs cold, Jongdae steps out, barely glancing at the mirror before shrugging on clothes. He ignores Kyungsoo’s call for food and goes straight to his room, scooting up under chilly sheets. Jongdae waits for sleep, but only manages to stare up at the ceiling for hours, bed too cold, too empty for his mind to stop racing, for his heart to calm down. 

When Jongdae next glances at the clock, it’s reads late enough for him to go out without being spotted at the club and he gets up, carelessly shrugging on some jeans and a sweatshirt and heading for the door. 

“Jongdae,” and the boy pauses at the sound of his best friend’s voice. 

“Yeah, Chan,” he sighs, “What are you doing up?” 

“Waiting for you,” Chanyeol explains, a sad note in his voice that makes Jongdae’s heart ache, “Stay in tonight... we can watch some of your favorites.” 

It’s a habit now, one Jongdae doesn’t want to break and he hesitates, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

“Chan,” he starts, “It’s just something I do now. It’s the only way I get any sleep any more, with… them gone now.” 

“With him gone, Dae, with him. You’re only like this because of Lu Han. He’s the only one who disappeared, without a word or warning. He’s why you’re like this, Dae, but you can’t stay like this. You can’t drink until your liver gives up, you can’t stay in bed all day without a meal, wasting away…” Chanyeol pauses, eyes glimmering with unshed tears, “You can get help, we’ve all done it one time or before.” 

There’s a tense moment of silence before Jongdae speaks, defeated, “I just can’t, Yeol, I can’t do it,” he rejects immediately, panicking at the thought, “I just can’t forget him-- us, like it was nothing, like he was nothing.” 

“Well, he treated you like you were nothing, Dae!” Chanyeol nearly shouts, face red with anger, “He just left! Left you here to reduce to nothing in his absence. I mean Yifan and Tao, they said something. Told us they were done, but Lu Han just ran, like a coward--” And Jongdae is gone, running out the door, glass door trembling in his wake. 

Chanyeol just stares at the floor Jongdae just deserted, heart aching in the most familiar way. It’s the same way Chanyeol’s chest throbs when Jongdae skips meals, laid out in his bed instead, when Jongdae sits but doesn’t speak when the members are all together, looking glassy and empty; broken. It’s hard seeing loved ones in such a state but it’s ten-times worse for Chanyeol because Jongdae’s sort of is his everything, even though the other boy doesn’t know it.

…

And the cycle repeats, except there’s no Chanyeol patiently waiting with a bowl of hangover soup and glass of water (although it’s sitting on the table next to him) and Jongdae feels even more empty and achy than usual. He chalks it up to the extra intake of alcohol he had last night, due to an overwhelming feeling of guilt that weighed him down after talking to Chanyeol. 

In search of a painkiller or even sleeping pill or two to drown out the pain, Jongdae knocks over a few bottles, scanning the labels as puts them back up. A half-full container of percocets lingers in his hand, a morbid curiosity piquing in his brain. Jongdae knows them to be the pills that Jongin would pop whenever his various injuries would flare up, immediately easing the younger boy’s pain and knocking him out for at least a full ten hours, the perfect combination to Jongdae, if the dark circles under his eyes indicate anything.

Without another moment of hesitation, Jongdae pops a few into his mouth, paying no heed to dosage guide, and washing them down with a large gulp of lukewarm water. After a few minutes, Jongdae begins to feel the side effects and he falls into the bed, feeling as he was floating on a cloud. As his brain slows for sleep, Jongdae can fool himself into believing that Lu Han’s right there next to him, brushing a small hand through his hair and lips dancing over his cheek. Before Jongdae realizes it’s an illusion of his lonely mind, he falls into a dark, dreamless sleep.

…

The next time Jongdae wakes up, it’s still light outside and Chanyeol’s bent over him, yelling and shaking him. When Chanyeol sees his opened eyes, he relaxes, frantically wiping the tears from his eyes. 

“Jongdae, what the hell?” the younger nearly yells, throwing the bottle of percocets Jongdae foolishly left on the counter, “I thought you were gone,” he cries in a whispery voice.

“I’m not,” Jongdae says plainly, feeling a little guilty, “How long was asleep?” 

“For nearly 36 hours, Dae. We thought you just needed the sleep but I came to wake you and you just wouldn’t wake up. I started panicking,” Chanyeol answers as he stands up, “I’m going to call Joonmyeon hyung and I’m going to throw these away and you’re getting to get help.” 

And before Jongdae can say anything, Chanyeol is gone, Jongdae’s happy pills in hand. 

…

Later on, Joonmyeon visits, lecturing Jongdae about the importance of being strong for the group and their fans and taking care of health like the rest of them-- with the therapist their company hired. Jongdae half-heartedly agrees and attends one session before he freaks out.

It might’ve been because it was the sixth month anniversary since Lu Han had left, or the posters fans had held up during their concert, declaring EXO one without Yifan, Lu Han, and Tao, or just Jongdae’s increasing lack of sleep, but he freaks out nonetheless. Jongdae’s shaking and on the verge of tears as he rummages through Chanyeol’s drawers, aching for a glimpse of that familiar white bottle, and when he finally wraps his hands around it, everything in a frenzy inside of him calms immediately. 

He walks to his room, even making small talk with Jongin who he passes by on the way there, and shuts his door once he makes it inside. From there, he slides into his bed, unscrewing the cap and tapping a few pills out as he goes. His hand, however, shakes and instead of one or two, there’s nine or ten resting in his palm and Jongdae doesn’t bother putting them back, just swallowing two at a time until there’s no left. 

The reaction time is almost instant-- or perhaps that’s just Jongdae’s fuzzy head-- and Jongdae falls over in the bed, resting on his side. Peace falls over him and the anxious mind that Jongdae is used to, finally rests. 

As sleep overcomes him, Jongdae glances at the pillow beside him, smiling dopily at the familiar blonde hair splayed out on the pillow. 

“Lu,” he whispers as everything fades to black.


End file.
